Aloha Oy: Souvenir Ukuleles
Wednesday, January 16th, 2008
Archive for the ‘Aloha Oy’ Category
Kauai: Good Humor Ice Cream
Sunday, January 13th, 2008Walter Lappert retired to Kauai thinking to pass his golden years in relative obscurity and peace, but instead, he went on to found an ice cream empire - Lappert’s ice cream shops are found all over Hawaii. We stopped frequently for ice cream during our travels because, um, important research? Yes, that’s it, plus, the need to keep our blood sugar up because of the hard work. Yes. I liked the trademarked Kauai Pie, J. always went for the Kona Coffee, though he also liked the tropical fruit options - I seem to recall some excellent mango ice cream.
We stayed in Poipu on Kauai, the resort-centric village on the south coast. Just inland from Poipu is the former sugar plantation village of Koloa and in Koloa there’s a lively Lappert’s. We were driving out of Koloa one afternoon? morning? it’s all a blur now… and J. wanted to stop and take a photo facing towards Mt. Wai’ale’ale. We pulled up in to a cemetery on a rise to the right of the highway and J. wandered to the edge of the plateau to take his pictures. I strolled between the headstones, getting a feel for the history of Koloa in the last names, Portuguese, Philippine, Spanish sounding mixes… and there, in the middle was old man Lappert’s stone. It’s a low to the ground granite number and gives the dates of his life - he died in 2003. The stone had the logo for his shop on it - Lappert’s smiling profile and a couple of ice cream cones.
His epitaph? “This is not a bad location.”
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For the record, our favorite island ice cream was not Lappert’s. It was Dave’s Ice Cream purchased at the Kamoi Snack Shoppe on Molokai. The Lappert’s, however, is mighty delicious.
Hawaii: Two Day Trips Worth an Overnight
Tuesday, January 1st, 2008Visitors to Maui are bombarded with exhortations to head to Hana - and lots do. They stumble out of bed at the crack of dawn, fold themselves into the rental car, and barrel off to the little town at the end of the road, stopping here and there to admire the view, snap photos of the falls, and let oncoming traffic pass. Visitors to the Big Island use this same tactic to go to the volcano, flying through the little towns on the south side, missing the coffee stands and the wonders of South Point to get in and out of the National Park before dark. Hey, it works. If it didn’t work, fewer people would do these excursions as day trips. The West Hawaii to Volcano drive isn’t so bad, though the Hana drive takes forever and doing it in the dark is a trial.
There’s no need for any of that harried rushing about. Both Hana and Volcano are great places to stay the night. We were lucky enough to do so and because we did, we not only have a better sense of what’s there, but we’re psyched to spend more time in the places that are typically revolving door spots for visitors. (more…)
Discounted Activities in Hawaii
Tuesday, December 11th, 2007You’re walking down Kalakaua Avenue in Waikiki or through Kona Village or Lahaina on a balmy evening. It’s your first or second day in the islands and you’re thinking, yeah, okay, I would like to see a luau. Or yeah, I would like to go on one of those obnoxious polluting ATV tours. (A-hem.) Or yeah, I want to take my sweetie on a dinner cruise. So when you see the “ACTIVITIES WAREHOUSE! DISCOUNTED ADVENTURES!” sign, you think, huh, I should go see what that’s gonna set me back. And when the nice guy or gal behind the counter asks you if you need a map or some local information and would like to learn about what you can do on the island, you start wandering over…
DON’T DO THAT! Run far, far away from those booths, storefronts, stands. Flee.
Here’s the deal. They say they are activity booking and information services, and yep, they are, that’s true, but what they actually are is timeshare sales fronts. They’ll get you a free luau for two or a deep discount on that snorkel tour if you’ll consent to being locked in a room for 90 minutes of a high pressure sales pitch for a timeshare. And you’ll need to bring your spouse, prove that you make enough money to be eligible, and a bunch of other ridiculous requirements to score the freebies. Don’t do it. Your stay in Hawaii is costing you enough, do you want to waste your morning being sold to? No, no, you do not.
I talked to one of these guys just for laughs. “It’s a fast 90 minutes,” he told me. “It just flies by. And if you still don’t want to buy, we’ll book your activity for you at the going rate.” He couldn’t - or wouldn’t - tell me what the difference was between his storefront and any other on the strip, or if his prices were all that, or even, why I should book through him. A “fast 90 minutes”? What the hell does that mean?
There’s a perfectly good alternative to this - maybe a few. The Activites and Attractions Association of Hawaii (H3A) sells the Gold Card, a card that gives you discount on activities for up to four people. The rates are published, consistent, and discounted. And, they won’t lock you in a room with a sales team. It’s only 30 bucks and you’ll save that with the first activity you book. They cover all kinds of stuff, from Airplane Tours to Zip Lines. Get one here.
Expedia has been partnering with hotels in Hawaii to staff the concierge desks. When you check in, you’ll get a card from the desk clerk for a free island orientation and breakfast. The breakfasts aren’t worth mentioning - I didn’t see more than Costco style pasties and overcooked coffee and if you already know about your island, you probably don’t want to bother with the presentation. I checked online and the rates seemed competitive with the H3A’s rates.
Finally, you know those booklets that are stuffed in your hand as you leave the airport and head for your rental car? They’re chock full of discount coupons - two for one admissions to museums and attractions, good deals on snorkel gear rentals, freebies at the fabulous Hawaii shoporama, Hilo Hattie’s, and they actually contain useful information. We kept the This Week guides handy for each island we visited.
If you just want information, go to the tourism offices run by the HCVB or talk to the concierge at your hotel or condo. Hell, ask your waiter or the gal making your latte. If you want to book an activity, again, try the concierge, who might be an Expedia agent, or get yourself one of those Gold Cards. If you want to buy a time share, go to a time share agent. Don’t mix those things or you’ll end up wasting time and possibly money. Wouldn’t you rather spend 90 minutes walking on the beach, snorkeling, strolling the market, lingering in bed listening to the ocean and birds, anything but being locked in a room exposed to high pressure sales?
It’s your vacation. Avoid the activities hawkers.
Next, Please?
Friday, December 7th, 2007When I was still walking circles around the idea of writing for a living, my friend M introduced me to his pal B, a Real Travel Writer. B had written a book and had bunches of stories published in magazines. In addition to the classic “You wanna write a book? Well, write the damn book already!” story, B told me something else that I find myself thinking of as I lug myself to the keyboard every morning. I can’t remember where he was flying back from - some plush assignment. The magazine had assigned a photographer to the gig as well. “We’re sitting on the plane and the photographer is totally relaxed. Why? His work was pretty much done. But mine was still ahead of me - I had writing to do.”
I get up early, always have. It’s newsworthy event if I sleep past 8am - my most productive hours are between 6 and 11 in the morning. Combined with the fact that we’d been shifted to Hawaii time, three hours earlier than Seattle, it was no problem for me to sort through the hundreds of photos we took - I estimate upwards of 500 - in about three days. With that done, there was nothing left to do but sit down and write.
To the aggravation of many, I have no trouble writing. So I’m not currently worried that I won’t get my manuscript done in time. I’m gnashing my teeth a little over the intense details, but that’s just normal work stuff. The problem is that while I’m chained to the keyboard, I miss being underway, even in that rushed way. I miss the “on assignment” part of the work. I miss shooting dozens of photos before noon. I can’t take time to do anything but work until I’ve finished meeting my writing obligations, but the writing is also weirdly in the way of things I’d like to be doing. I have a peculiar kind of culture shock, one that’s caused by the shift of going from being a full time observer to a full time documenter of things observed.
I miss the Hawaiian sunshine, that’s for sure, but I miss using my eyes more. I miss those random conversations about how the Wal-Mart was built in spite of the sacred burial ground found during the first excavations, about how there almost no Hawaiian owned hotels, about how the Super Ferry is a problem because it’s all about making it possible for people to easily move Hawaii’s natural resources from one place to another - which is a really un-Hawaiian philosophy. I miss the excuse to have those conversations. It’s not just Hawaii, though, it’s that state of mind that you get into when you’re doing that sort of work. I won’t go all hokey and say it’s the “zone” - plus, it’s not the “zone”, it’s crazy tiring. But I miss the work all the same.
I have a slightly different point of view than B does on the end of travel. Yeah, I have piles of work to do. But that’s not what was bumming me out on the plane ride home. It’s that it’s over. I gotta finish this assignment not just because I have an obligation to do so, but because I need to turn my efforts to finding the next one.
Thank God I have those plane tickets to Saigon.
Lost Perspective in Waikiki
Thursday, December 6th, 2007Around 8pm on our last night in Waikiki, we tried to return our rental car, but the place we needed to go was on fire. The streets were packed with diverted traffic, impatient police officers, fire trucks, and slews of slack-jawed tourists. There were lights and water and sirens everywhere as fire trucks attempted to manage the three alarm blaze. We circled a five block radius again and again, trying to find some back way in to the rental car place as though a hazard to health and safety could not prevent us from getting our car returned on time. Rental car companies, as you probably know, are notorious for sticking you with (among other things) fees for late returns or dropping the car at the wrong place.
Phone calls to the rental car HQ didn’t help. “We’re aware of the issue,” said the trying to be helpful person on the line. She instructed me to take the car to another rental car company nearby who’d agreed to help out. Except. “Oh, yeah, you’re in the right location,” said the valet in front of the hotel, “but that desk closed at three today. No one’s been here for hours and hours.”
Back at our hotel at the Kapiolani Park end of Waikiki, there was no traffic, no noise, no smoke. The rental car agent on the phone (this was call number four) finally conceded that yeah, it made sense for me to return the car to the airport the following day and he’d recommend - but could not guarantee - that the fees be waived. I took a deep breath. I turned on the TV to see if I could learn more about what happened, but the only local news I could find was a replay of the earlier 6pm news. In Korean.
The next morning, we drove to the airport where we could not find the rental car return place. We circled the airport three times and asked the guys at the suggested other company if they’d take our car because, hey, that’s what the trying to be helpful agent told us to do last night. “No, no, no, your place is over there, outside the airport. You gotta head out thataway, you’ll see it underneath the Nimitz, just past the gas station.” We’d given ourselves plenty of time, but truth be told, I was getting kind of tense. Rather, I had a tension hangover from last night.
The gal at the desk gave me the fisheye. “What fire?” she said. “I didn’t see a thing about it.” I picked up the newspaper that was on the desk in front of her and lo and behold, there was Not One Word about the fire on the front page. Not one. She gave me that teeth-gritting smile and asked me to wait while she whispered questions to her associate. Our paperwork was shuffled over to the office. We waited some more. A shuttle came, loaded up some passengers and left again. “She hates us,” I thought. It was early. I had not had coffee yet.
I’m sure it was not ten minutes before she came back out, but it seemed like much longer. I kept flipping through the newspaper, wondering why there was nothing on the fire that stalled the center of Waikiki’s tourist district last night. Nothing. I found this increasingly aggravating. “You’re all set,” she said, and handed me the receipt. “This is the same as if you’d returned the car downtown last night. Thanks - the shuttle should be along in about five minutes.”
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Here’s a report about the not imaginary fire on Oahu’s channel 9. And FYI, if you click through to the notorious rental car fee article, you’ll find one about “the needle not quite on F.” We got tagged for that by Dollar on Moloka’i , though the desk clerk immediately reversed the fee when we handed her the receipt for topping up the tank not 10 minutes before our arrival at the airport. Hold on to those gas receipts, comrades!
